


Samson is my Achilles Heel

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes indifference isn't an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samson is my Achilles Heel

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt _golden thread_.

Mostly it seems like a waste of time to dislike people. Mark chooses indifference. Indifference gives you power; hate rips it from you. People goad him all the time, and he might not be Sebastian's biggest fan, this kid with so much life while Mark feels himself fading away, but why offer him the satisfaction of hate. Mark keeps his head down. He tries.

When Sebastian is winning he's equal parts infuriating and like a shining light that Mark can't look away from. His eyes glitter in the flashbulbs in the winner's photos that Mark stops showing up to. The two of them in the same frame makes Mark look old, look tired, look beaten. He doesn't like the comparison. He's never liked the comparisons.

He sees Sebastian one night in the hotel bar. Mark was at the circuit late, filming a segment for Australian TV, while Sebastian, evidently, was drinking their entire stock of champagne. Mark hesitates a few steps from the elevator and watches as Sebastian laughs, lighting up the room. Mark feels cold. Indifference has proven to be a lonely choice. Hate is driven by passion and at least that would keep him warm at night.

He uses any excuse he can to fuel himself. He listens to the media, he eats it all up, he picks on any tiny cues he can from the team to feel indignant. It comes easier than he expected and that fact embarrasses him. He doesn't know who he is anymore but at least with hatred running through his veins he feels alive again.

It doesn't seem to change the dynamic between the two of them in any big way but it changes the atmosphere in the garage. Everything is at stake and Mark has turned this into a story of versus. Or maybe Dietrich and Marko and Christian did that. Maybe it was always going to end up this way. The thought of being sacrificed, left behind, lights up that fire in him again and he clings to his hatred like a lifeline.

It's Jägermeister in the end, not champagne. It could never be champagne, there can only be one winner. Mark isn't sure who that is as he pins Sebastian's needy body down onto his bed, a high pitched whine emanating from his throat as he thrusts his hips upwards. Mark wants to deny him, or rather Mark _wants_ to want to deny him. But Mark wants him and it makes him weak and he wishes now for indifference.

He pushes Sebastian's T-shirt roughly upwards, pulling at the material, wanting to tear it. Sebastian half-sits up, tugs at it with him, everything getting tangled before they finally manage to fling it across the room. It feels like such a cliché. Sebastian's hands slide inside Mark's shirt, stroking up his back, and Mark shudders, pulling it quickly off so that he has no reason to linger.

When they're finally naked, Sebastian chews on his lip, staring up Mark with soft eyes. Mark can see the sparkle of a win and it enrages him. He holds Sebastian's arms down and he thrusts against him, loving every shudder, every cry, the way he fights with Mark but never enough to free himself. Mark knows that he could if he wanted to. That's why he pushes him down extra hard.

Mark loves the vulnerability of Sebastian's orgasm, he wishes he could live in that moment forever. It opens something up in him, loosens his grip on Sebastian's wrists as Sebastian arches beneath him, his head tipping back and a helpless noise escaping his throat. His mouths hangs open, his eyes wide and damp and Mark wants to devour him. He wants to wrap him up and never let him go.

As they lie on the bed, panting and sweaty, Sebastian doesn't move and Mark is worried he's going to try and stay the night, draw this agony out until morning. When he eventually gets to his feet he takes far too long collecting his clothes, pulling them on in a way that would seem teasing if he were doing it in reverse. Mark turns away. He doesn't watch him leave.

In the morning Mark finds a blond hair on his pillow, shimmering in the sunlight. He wrinkles his nose, picking it up between his thumb and forefinger and dropping it to the floor. He doesn't need bits of Sebastian's halo hanging around to remind him of his own shortcomings.

It's that vulnerability that draws him back to Sebastian again. He can live without the passion, the raw sexuality, his own hand does a good enough job when he needs to get off, but he can't get that flushed face, those swollen lips, those pleading eyes out of his mind. He watches Sebastian across the garage and he remembers the way he'd fallen apart so willingly beneath him. Mark had finally found his weak spot.

He's not sure what Sebastian gets out of this and he doesn't let himself think too hard on it. Maybe he likes losing control in a way that doesn't have consequences the world can judge him for. Maybe Mark wanting him is just another way for him to win.

The more they do this the more Mark feels his own guard coming down. He doesn't grip Sebastian's wrists, doesn't pin him down anymore, doesn't fight with him for dominance. It feels increasingly like he has nothing to prove, not when that door closes, and so he lets Sebastian touch him, lets his hands roam over his body, and he lets himself enjoy it.

When they're done and Sebastian is collecting his clothes, Mark flips the pillow over so he won't be faced with any of those golden strands winking at him in the morning sun. Sebastian being in his bed is one thing, a part of him still being there in the morning isn't something Mark can handle right now.

When Sebastian goes on top for the first time Mark feels like his face must be as open as Sebastian's was that first night. He straddles Mark's hips and he grinds down against him, and it's not for show, not for Mark's benefit at all. He's chasing his own pleasure as he moves on Mark's cock, completely abandoned to himself, and Mark can't tear his eyes away. It's simultaneously the most beautiful and most arousing thing he's ever seen.

Sebastian gets himself off like Mark's not even there. He pants, Mark's cock still buried inside him, his eyes closed and his body languid. Mark should feel victorious that Sebastian is pulled so far apart but it's not about that anymore. It hasn't been about that for a long time.

A grin spreads over Sebastian's face and he slowly opens his eyes, looking down at Mark. He's still out of breath, opening his mouth a couple of times as if he's going to speak, but in the end nothing comes out but a breath of laughter. It's silent but Mark can see it shining in his eyes, can feel it through his own body where they're connected.

Sebastian lifts himself up, Mark's cock slipping from him, a flicker of discomfort passing over Sebastian's face before he's moving downwards, snapping the condom off and wrapping his lips around Mark's cock. Mark feels an electric shock go through his body and it's a miracle he doesn't come on the spot. He holds his breath, pulls it back, and then he looks down, meeting Sebastian's eyes and losing himself in a completely different way.

It's so painfully intimate, holding Sebastian's gaze as he slides up and down on his cock, flushed cheeks hollowed, red lips wet and stretched. But those eyes are all Mark can really concentrate on, blue and shining and proud. He has Mark defenceless but it's clear he has no intention of taking advantage. He just wants to make him feel good. He wants to make him come.

It doesn't take long. Mark can't help the way his body convulses, head thrown back, but he makes sure to reach down, to keep that connection by threading his fingers through those golden strands. His grip tightens and he wants to pull the hairs from Sebastian's head, not because he wants to hurt him, but because he wants a souvenir and somehow that seems fitting.

He doesn't turn the pillow over that night. He tells himself that he forgets but it's a lie. He stays in bed late the next morning, looking at the hairs on his pillow. He swapped indifference for hate but now he's left with something else that he doesn't have a name for. Maybe this is _like_. Maybe this is what it's like to _like_ someone.

He invites Sebastian to his house after the British Grand Prix, but it doesn't feel like an invitation so much as a given. It's different in his own bed, but by then this has become something so painfully intimate that it only serves to heighten things. He doesn't change his sheets the night before, doesn't want this to be anonymous like every hotel bed they've ever been in. It's almost like he's marking his territory. He catches Sebastian burying his face in the pillow, breathing in deep, and he feels his own breath catch in his throat.

It all needs washing after Sebastian leaves but he keeps that pillowcase for a while longer, the one that smells of Mark, the one that has Sebastian's hairs left on it. He wonders if this means what he thinks it means. He wonders if he's ready for that.

It's all hotel rooms and clean sheets again soon enough. It starts to feel lacking. Mark signs the green option at check in, says it's fine to not change his sheets during his stay, and then he works on getting Sebastian into his bed earlier and earlier in the weekend so that it becomes something shared, even if he's the only one who sleeps there.

He dares himself to take it to the next step. It's only pride that stops him. Sex is sex, even the way they do it now, drawn out, tender kisses, lingering touches, looking into each other's eyes as they come. They've learnt each other literally inside out, use that knowledge to indulge each other every chance they get. That's what it feels like to Mark. But asking for more than that, upsetting the balance, that makes Mark vulnerable in a whole new way that being naked never has.

Mark doesn't see the world in the way he once did, not with how his career turned out. It's not about what he can win, it's never about what he can win anymore, it all hinges on what he's set to lose; his dignity and some of the best sex he's ever had.

When he decides he's leaving Formula 1 it makes so many things in his life feel easier. The stakes are lower and it's all on his own terms. He's the one in control. He hasn't told anyone his decision yet, not outside of Dietrich and his contacts at Porsche. Secrets give you power. Secrets give you the upper hand. Secrets make you brave.

He opens the door to Sebastian, not rushing him straight inside like he usually does. Instead he says "I was thinking about ordering some room service and watching a movie."

"Oh," Sebastian says, shifting on his feet, and how Mark would have loved to put him that off balance with a few words at the beginning of this.

"You're welcome to join me," Mark says with a shrug.

Sebastian's face softens, his body stilling. He smiles. "Okay."

They sit on the sofa in Mark's suite and they eat food that neither of their personal trainers would approve of and then Sebastian melts into the sofa, shifting closer, and there's no expectation between them. This isn't foreplay. This is contentment.

Sebastian falls asleep, leaning against Mark's shoulder, and Mark lifts his arm, carefully sliding it around him. Sebastian makes a pleased noise, snuggling closer, and Mark spends more time watching him than the movie.

The next day, when Mark pulls his hoodie on and sees golden strands of hair in the crook of his arm he smiles to himself. This is something that will last, something he can take with him when he's gone.


End file.
